An Illness of Strange Sorts
by TotaltotheMax
Summary: Enjolras is sick. But of course he won't admit to the fact. Grantaire seems to be the only one who notices. But what can the drunkard do? Rated T because I'm paranoid. Eventual ExR is I feel like adding it in...
1. Chapter 1

"Enj, are you sure that you're alright?"

"Combeferre!" Enjolras sighed in exasperation. "As I've told you before, I'm perfectly fine. Although, I would be much better if you would stop worrying about me and focus on the task at hand!" Combeferre sighed and turned back to his hushed conversation with Courfeyrac about who knows what. However, Enjolras had a sneaking suspicion that it was about him. Behind 'Ferre's back, Enjolras let out his breath which he had not realized he was holding.

Enjolras was lying through his teeth. He most certainly was not as fine as he had said. No, not even close. His head was pounding, his muscles ached, his vision was slightly blurred, and he was sweating, yet freezing at the same time. But there was no time for weakness now! Not when there were speeches to be said, fairness to be fought for, people to be recruited, and plans to be made. Although, he may have been just using that as an excuse. He truly loved their cause, freedom, anyone who looked at him could tell that, but it was a bit of an excuse to not show weakness. Under no circumstance would he ever admit weakness. But that is another story that will be told later, my dear reader.

Enjolras had been trying to act normal; passionate, loud, his typical marble stature; but it was becoming more and more difficult as his conditions worsened. He sat down at his table, (It was always that same table; somewhere in the middle of the room) and attempted to work on his latest writings. But he couldn't even read his slanted handwriting on the page, much less write more of it. So he just hunched over his work, clenched his teeth, and pretended to work. Head bent over his paper, so that his friends wouldn't see his pained expression, Enjolras closed his eyes tightly. Even the dimmed lighting hurt his eyes. What was wrong with him? Ah, well it would probably pass. Or at least that's what he hoped.

Enjolras felt someone's gaze on him and opened his eyes gradually. He glanced up from his "work" and looked to see who it was. A pair of eyes gleamed back at him from the corner of the cafe. A bottle of wine was brought to the lips, but the eyes were still trained on Enjolras. Enjolras made a questioning gesture at the drunk. Grantaire, for that is indeed who it was, pulled himself out of his corner and stumbled towards the blond revolutionary. The blonde straightened up, wincing slightly, and faced the approaching cynic. He really was not in the mood for the brunette's drunk antics.

Enjolras looked expectantly at Grantaire, waiting for him to babble out some drunken speech. To Enjolras' shock, Grantaire seemed rather sober when he began to speak. This was shocking really, mostly because Enjolras had seen him down a few bottles tonight. He had tried to get him to stop, but to no avail. But for 'Taire to ever sound like this was strange enough.

"Hey, hey Apollo. You're not lookin' too good tonight. Why, you're pale as a ghost and aren't even mad at me for drinking!" Grantaire chuckled a bit as he said the last part. He pulled a chair out and sat down heavily next to Enjolras. He took a swig from his bottle of toxins while raising his eyebrows, awaiting his idol's response. Enjolras glared at his nickname and tried to formulate a reasonable explanation. He could say that he was fine, but that would most likely just make Grantaire more aware of his illness. By this time, it had dawned upon Enjolras that if the drunk man seated beside him had realized his sickness, that the others wouldn't be far behind.

"Look Grantaire. I have told Combeferre this, and I suppose I will have to tell you as well. I am perfectly fine, albeit a bit tired. No need for concern." That seemed to be a believable lie. It was true that he hadn't slept and was exhausted from his lack of sleep. So not all of it was a lie. Just the majority of it. But would R realize the lie?

Grantaire seemed to be thinking about his words. Then, out of nowhere, he started laughing. Enjolras stared at him, bewildered by the sudden laughter. The noise hurt his head, but he clenched his fists and ignored the pain. Grantaire continued laughing as only a drunken man could, long and drawn out. Enjolras glanced around the room, instantly noticing all the stares they were getting. The room had been relatively silent before now. Combeferre and and Courfeyrac shared a look before turning back to their previous conversation, signaling that everyone else should follow suit. Thank God for those two, Enjolras thought to himself. Now only Jehan remained staring. The poet had a thoughtful look on his face as he watched. Then, with a word from Joly, he turned away, casting only a few glances over his shoulder.

"What on Earth are you laughing about? What is so very funny?" Enjolras demanded harshly in a hushed voice.

"Apollo, Apollo, Apollo. Look here 'Jolras. I may be a bit drunk, but that doesn't mean I'm stupid. I can still tell a lie from the truth. You never were a good liar anyway." Grantaire's voice was laced with a bit of humor as he spoke. Grantaire placed his bottle down on the table, as carefully as one might place a baby, and leaned closer to the revolutionary. The blonde could smell the repulsive scent of alcohol on his friend's breath. He scrunched up his nose and focused on the other man's words.

"You really are not fooling anyone here. I mean, temporarily you may have, but not for long. You should have been up and yelling at us all for not working! So. What's up with you?" Enjolras knew when he was trapped. Right now, he was certainly trapped. He decided only to tell part of the truth. If he phrased it correctly, he should be able to get the drunk off his back.

"Alright, fine. You want the truth?" Grantaire looked surprised at how easy it was to convince the usually stubborn man and nodded. "Well, I am tired, that part was the truth, and my head is pounding. Are you happy now?" Enjolras was speaking rather quitely, for the loudness of his own voice was killing his head. Grantaire had a look on his face that seemed to say he was buying the tale. Perhaps, Enjolras thought, perhaps this one might work.

"Well," Grantaire paused to take another sip. "I suppose that it could be believed. You are known for not sleeping. Or for eating, for that matter." Enjolras was about to protest, but stopped himself. It was true. Many a time had Combeferre forced him to eat or sleep. So there really wasn't a very strong counter-argument for that point.

"Go home and sleep it off. That's what I do when I'm drunk. So basically that's what I do all the time." Grantaire laughed and stood up, stumbling slightly. He wandered off towards Bossuet and began humming some song about bottles of wine. Enjolras shook his head lightly and thought about Grantaire's suggestion. Maybe that wasn't such a bad idea. So he tiredly began gathering his papers and books together.

He bid goodbye to everyone cautiously, claiming that he had business to attend and had to leave now. He promised to be there tomorrow night as always, although he wasn't sure of what condition he would be in then. Of course he didn't say the last part aloud.

* * *

Enjolras felt pretty proud. He had made it all the way home, without collapsing or even stopping for longer than ten seconds. He trudged up the stairs, practically sleeping on his feet. Enjolras reached into his waistcoat pocket, fumbling around a few moments before finding the key. He shakily put in the lock. He sighed. Great, he thought. "Now I'm shaking too!" He was mumbling to the air, but he didn't seem to care.

He finally got the key in the lock and unlocked the door. He dragged himself inside, dropping his books and locking the door behind him. He really was not in the mood for any visitors tonight. He lay down, preparing for only a short rest. He soon slipped into unconsciousness, tossing and turning with an illness that he was determined to hide.

_**hey guys. So I know this is awful. I wrote most of this when I first got into Les Mis and had no idea of most of it. Gah. So OOC. Whatever. I'll fix that soon enough. So please review and I promise that I will update this as regularly as possible during the summer. I have vacations and things as well. So there's that. But uh yeah. Thanks for reading.  
-Total**_


	2. Chapter 2

Grantaire glanced at the clock and frowned. Apollo was late… That was rather unlike him. Combine that with how he was acting last night, something was wrong. Something was very wrong. Grantaire fiddled nervously with the buttons on his vest. Normally, he would be halfway to the devil's gates by now. Or in other words, pretty much drunk. Then again, normally, Enjolras wasn't late.

He glanced around the room apprehensively. No one else seemed to take notice of Enjolras's absence. How could no one else be even remotely concerned by now? He was ten minutes late! Ten whole minutes! That was simply unheard of.

Grantaire glanced around once more, before standing up, holding himself high. He strode purposefully towards the front table, where Combeferre and Courfeyrac were once again sitting, this time joined by a young poet. Jehan smiled gently when he saw Grantaire approaching. Courfeyrac raised a bottle at him and made some comment that Grantaire didn't bother listening to. It was Combeferre that he had come to see.

He nodded briefly to Courfeyrac and Jehan before turning to Combeferre. "'Ferre. Have you seen the time?"

Combeferre glanced at the clock briefly and furrowed his eyebrows. "Yes. And…?"

Grantaire gestures wildly. "We're ten minutes in! And do you notice who's missing?" A look of realization came over Combeferre's face.

"Enjolras," he breathed. He stood up hurriedly and quickly brushed off his hands. "I'll go and see what's keeping him. Be right back guys." With that, he strode quickly out the door, grabbing his coat on his way. With a flash of his coat, he was gone into the darkness.

Grantaire sighed and dropped into Combeferre's now empty seat. He felt barely reassured at the fact that Combeferre was looking into the matter. Courfeyrac tried to start up a conversation with him, but Jehan realized his thoughts and stopped Courfeyrac from continuing. Grantaire buried his head in his arms and mumbled to himself.

"Apollo, you better be okay."

* * *

Enjolras was dragged back into reality by a harsh knocking on the door. He groaned in pain and swallowed thickly. What time was it anyway? He knew he had woken up briefly at around five this morning. He remembered being determined to get up and move around. He also remembered failing at that task and falling back on the couch. But surely it couldn't be too late?

He called out weakly, coughing before starting again, "Who- Who is it?"

"Enjolras! Are you quite all right? It's not like you to be late to a meeting." Combeferre. Enjolras sighed in relief. His eyes widened when the words sunk in. Late… to a meeting? No, couldn't be! It wasn't that late. "'Jolras? Hello?"

"Oh uh yeah. Just got back from… shopping. I lost track of time. I'll be there soon…" He trailed off, angry with himself. Shopping? Anyone who knew him knew he didn't go shopping. Idiot!

"Uh are you sure you're alright? It's not like you to go shopping..." Enjolras could hear the clear concern in his friend's voice. He hated lying to Combeferre, but he had to.

"No I'm quite sure. I just needed a new pen and some more paper. Nothing- nothing to be concerned about." Enjolras silently cursed when he stuttered slightly. He couldn't stutter. Enjolras closed his eyes when a wave of pain swept over him. He moaned quietly or at least quietly enough for Combeferre not to hear. He pushed himself up off the couch, falling back when his head swam. Maybe he shouldn't stand up just yet.… He then realized that Combeferre was speaking to him.

"… Let me in then?" Enjolras only managed to catch the last few words, but he had heard enough to know what he had been talking about.

"Well um I have to change so I'll uh meet you there. In about ten minutes say?" Enjolras frowned at how weak his voice sounded. He hoped Combeferre couldn't detect that through the door.

Combeferre hesitated before consenting. "Fine. We will see you at the Musian in ten." Through the door, Enjolras could hear 'Ferre's footsteps walking away from his door.

Enjolras sighed and pushed himself up again, this time holding his head and closing his eyes at the dizziness, instead of falling back. Once the dizziness departed for the most part, he slowly made his way towards his room and began changing into cleaner clothes.

Ten minutes quickly flew by and turned into fifteen. Fifteen became twenty and finally Enjolras emerged from his room. He glanced at the time and just about yelled in frustration. Combeferre was going to be mad. He hurried towards the door and immediately regretted it as a wave of nausea came over him. He stopped and leaned against the wall, taking a momentary pause. He continued in the same way, taking breaks every few steps. For this reason, a normally two minute walk turned into a ten minute one.

Enjolras paused at the door, almost frightened to enter. He didn't want the stares or the looks he felt coming. He didn't even want to stand up any longer. But for the sake of hiding his illness, he knew he had to. It wasn't a choice. So, taking a deep breath, Enjolras entered the Café Musian.

**_hey guys. Gah. This is short and bad. Sorry. Anyways, review and whatnot. Thanks to everyone who reviewed by the way! Gonna be hard during the summer, but I'll try to update whenever I can. So yeah. See ya, well not really, next time.  
-Total_**


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